Harry Potter: When the Time is Right
by YenGirl
Summary: Thirteen years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry is haunted by dreams of someone believed to be long dead. Pre-Snarry.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! This is my first pre-Snarry in... well, forever actually. If you're following Vine and my continuation of JD's epic TMS, you must be wondering when will the next chapter be posted. Unfortunately, progress hinges on a pivotal scene that Vine is working on and RL issues have once again intervened. Please be patient a little longer.

Meanwhile, in order to stop my flighty muse from running back to anime land and its plethora of impossibly beautiful men, I am attempting this small story which will have 3-4 chapters. Enjoy :)

 **Warnings:** Takes place around 13 years after The Final Battle. Contains fluff, possible OOCness and innocent Severus, my favourite way of writing him.

 **Rating:** 'T'

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the brainchild of JK Rowlings.

\- Chapter Start -

For the last twenty minutes or so, the only sounds in the truck were the non stop drumming of heavy rain on the roof, the frantic clacking of the windshield wipers trying to keep up, and the occasional rustle of stiff paper.

Then a long sigh sounded.

"I think we're really lost this time, dad."

Harry Potter didn't take his eyes off the road, nerves strung tight and hands gripping the steering wheel, long past feeling the rough, cracked leather against his palms. He could barely peer past the deluge of rain and swinging wipers to see what the failing headlights were picking out.

Lightning streaked helpfully across the sky, painting a monochrome scene of trees and bushes on either side of a small winding road before vanishing. Thunder rumbled a few moments later.

Cardiff truly had unpredictable weather since this afternoon had been sunny and hot.

Albus sighed again and brought the lit tip of his brand new wand closer to the map clutched in his other hand. He almost poked a hole right through it when their truck hit a pothole masquerading as an innocent puddle of water.

"Damnit! Sorry, Al."

 _"Nox."_ Albus kept his wand and folded up the map. "How do you know where this road leads to? It looks more like a dead end."

Harry flashed him a wan smile. Al could always be counted on to keep his composure, something Harry appreciated more than anything right now. If it were James - impatient and impulsive - sitting beside him, they would have ended up in a drain long before now, he was certain.

"Well, you know the old Muggle saying about a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?" He asked, wrenching the steering wheel hard right to avoid another puddle. "And a light at the end of the tunnel?"

"Let me guess, there's a house at the end of this road?" Al sounded sceptical.

"Exactly!" Harry didn't have to look at Al to know his younger son was rolling his eyes at him.

"Remind me again who's supposed to be the rational adult here?"

"Don't you start, Al. I get enough of that from your mum."

Albus Severus Potter was bright and studious and would start his first year at Hogwarts once summer was over. Harry still had no idea how he and Ginny managed to produce a son as quiet and matured as his second born. James and Lily were much more believable as their offspring.

"Speaking of mum, she must be worried."

"I'll send her a Patronus as soon as we arrive... somewhere," Harry promised. He snatched a quick sideways glance to see Al staring out the window on his side, and swallowed back a sigh.

It was Friday night and Harry was supposed to send Al to The Burrow. He and Ginny had gotten divorced three years ago after finally acknowledging that they had nothing in common apart from three wonderful children and a love for Quidditch. In fact, their intimacy in the bedroom had waned not long after Lily was born. Harry had been fine just carrying on the facade of a happy marriage, but Ginny wanted true love and the freedom to pursue it.

Hence, the divorce.

Harry, a professional Quidditch player, took care of their three children whenever he was free while Ginny, a senior broomstick designer at Broomz R Uz - took care of them during the other times.

Ginny soon found romance with one of her work colleagues, but Harry didn't. He wasn't ready to join the dating scene then and he still wasn't now. He thought he had found true love with Ginny, but it was just infatuation and teenage hormones combined with the jubilation of defeating Voldemort and the grief of losing Fred. Before they knew it, Ginny was pregnant so they had gotten married. It was the obvious thing to do and the Wealeys welcomed the happy news after losing one of their own.

Harry didn't regret it though, not when he had James, Al and Lily.

But then those dreams started about three months ago.

They were vague and indistinct at first, fleeting images of black that faded like wisps of smoke as soon as he woke up. Slowly, the dreams gained clarity; black morphing into billowing robes and a pair of endless dark eyes. These were followed by images of thin, potion stained fingers and the echo of a deep, resonant voice.

Harry would wake up from those dreams with eyes wide and heart pounding.

But why would he start dreaming of someone who had died on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack thirteen years ago?

After all, this year was pretty much the same as the ones before. The Prophet ran the same old articles on May 2nd, the anniversary of the day Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. There was the same recounting of The Final Battle, the same articles on Tom Riddle's past, and Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape's deaths. Harry felt the same pang of regret at how the latter two had died, and the burdens and secrets they had carried for so long.

And since Harry and Ginny's divorce was finalised on May 1st three years ago, there were the usual articles on their love lives (or lack thereof in Harry's case). The only new one this year was Albus Severus Potter's forthcoming debut at Hogwarts, rife speculation on which House he would be sorted in, and whether he would follow in his mischievous older brother's footsteps.

But there was nothing in the papers that might have triggered Harry's subconscious to dream of Severus Snape every three or so days.

Still, those dreams grew more frequent and more vivid, Snape's voice and image occasionally interspersing with images of a small cottage with a front garden in a countryside setting.

It got to the point where Harry spent more time poring over places of residence in Britain in Muggle internet cafes than he did on Quidditch. The result of his latest preoccupation was that he finally narrowed his search to Cardiff... and failed to catch the Snitch in his last two matches.

So here he was, taking a break from Quidditch and driving a rented pickup truck in an attempt to find a resolution to those disturbing dreams. James and Lily were watching a local Quidditch match with Ginny this afternoon. Harry was supposed to send Al back to the Burrow this evening and now wished he had put off this trip to tomorrow.

Al probably thought he was mad, going off in search of 'a long lost friend he had met at Hogwarts'. Harry couldn't blame him, he likely _was_ mad, chasing after a man the whole world believed was dead just because of a couple of dreams.

But they were more than a couple of dreams.

And they were more than mere dreams.

Harry could almost swear they were like a message, beckoning him towards a mystery still unsolved to this very day. After all, there wasn't a body left behind in the Shrieking Shack when Harry had gone back to check that day. No one admitted to removing it.

Then lightning zigzagged across the dark sky again and Harry saw it - the small cottage in his dreams, only rendered in black, grey and white instead of pretty pastel hues. With his heart pounding in his chest again, he turned onto the side road and drove up the narrow path, stopping the truck before the small wooden gates in front of him. A soft light shone in one of the windows.

Harry uncurled his cramped hands from the steering wheel and placed them in his lap. They were trembling. He took a deep breath and let it out on a long, shaky sigh.

"And there's the house at the end of the road," he said aloud.

"It's a cottage, dad."

"It's still a house."

"It's also on a side road."

Harry turned to him, forehead crinkled and lips pressed tight. Then he chuckled and shook his head, reaching over to ruffle his son's hair.

Trust Al to take the mystery out of anything.

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! So... *nervous smile* worth continuing?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your kind reviews. Enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

The truck didn't have any umbrellas or newspapers or cardboard boxes or anything that could be used as protection against the driving rain. The interior light of the truck didn't even work. After a thorough search of the backseat and floor space from the driver's seat that left an annoying twinge in his back, Harry dusted off his hands and turned to Albus.

"Right. You stay here, Al. I'm going to see if they can let us in for a bit."

Albus glanced at the cottage and then back at him, his expression solemn.

"But they don't know us. Well, they might know you if they aren't Muggles."

Harry just gave him a wan smile. Pounding on one's door in the pouring rain while looking like a drowned kneazle wasn't the sort of first impression he wanted to make. Then again, if his guess was correct, the occupant of the cottage wouldn't be impressed with him no matter what he did.

"Just wait here, I'll be right back," he said.

He cast the Impervious charm on his glasses and took a deep breath before throwing open the truck door. The instant he stepped out, he was wet. By the time he unlatched the small gate (which he could have easily vaulted over) and went up to the door, he was soaked to the skin and wondering why the hell didn't he cast the spell on his entire person instead.

At least his vision remained clear.

Despite the light at the window, Harry wasn't sure if anyone would answer his knock. But the door opened after a few seconds to reveal a tall figure whose sharp features were barely visible in the dim headlights of the truck, yet familiar all the same.

Harry's heart leaped up to his throat and started hammering there. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"Snape," he said in a strangled voice.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry had to close his eyes for just a moment. That deep, chocolate rich voice rolled over his senses, bringing a rash of goose bumps that had nothing to do with his sodden clothes. In a flash, he was flung back in time to that fateful night when he had lost family and friends, when he had walked to his death in order to defeat Voldemort, and when he had learned the story of another man's courage that spanned almost two decades.

Words crawled up his throat, moving past his pounding heart to crowd on his tongue, clamouring to be uttered. Half of them were inappropriate right this instant while the other half he wouldn't utter in his children's presence.

"Do come in, Potter, you are soaked to the bone."

Snape's impatient words made Harry blink, wondering if he had heard right. Part of him still expected to be ordered off the grounds with a nasty spell or two to hasten him on his way, and the door slammed shut behind him.

"I - Al is with me."

"Albus Severus Potter?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he saw those thin lips twisting in a smirk.

"Go and get him. Wait." Snape disappeared behind the door and reappeared a moment later with a large umbrella which he handed to Harry. "Since you are obviously still inept with basic spells. I will fetch towels."

With that, the door was shut in Harry's face, most likely to prevent the puddle of rainwater on the wooden floor from getting any larger. He stood there, still shell shocked until his brain repeated what Snape had said to him.

Get Al.

Right.

\- o -

 _Ten minutes later..._

The atmosphere in the small living room was stifled and awkward. Harry and Al sat on the sofa facing a small TV that stood in the centre of a low cabinet placed against the wall. Snape occupied one of the two armchairs flanking the sofa, one long leg crossed over the other. A tea tray sat on the low coffee table, comprised of three mugs of steaming hot tea and a plate of biscuits.

Harry didn't dare help himself. His hands were still trembling and he had to swallow a hysterical giggle that kept trying to crawl up his throat. He had a feeling that once he let it out, he wouldn't be able to stop. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to intone something scathing about his lack of sanity, maturity, brain cells or manners - or all of them - especially in front of Al.

Who was marvelously composed, sitting beside him and looking about with discreet curiosity.

From what Harry could see in his nervous glances about the room, the living room - lit by two shaded lamps on side tables - looked cosy and well furnished. The sofa and armchairs were covered with a dark fabric that might be brown or rust red, the plump throw cushions on it in cream and the same dark shade. Two of the walls were lined with packed bookcases and the far wall had two doors which presumably led to the kitchen and other parts of the cottage.

Harry had a bath towel around his shoulders. He could feel the rainwater from his jeans soaking into the cushion beneath him. He glanced at Snape, dressed in a plain dark coloured shirt and trousers, mind distressingly blank of anything save a couple of questions endlessly circling - 'How are you still alive?' and 'Why the hell didn't you let anyone know?' and 'Where on earth have you been for the past thirteen years?!'

He sensed Al's eyes on him and heard his soft indrawn breath as if preparing to say something, but Snape beat him to it.

"Well, Harry Potter? You are free to voice out those burning questions I can see weighing down your tongue."

That mocking tone was just as familiar albeit devoid of the biting vitriol of the past.

Harry glared at him, trying not to be swept into the past again. Snape was no longer his Potions Professor or Headmaster of Hogwarts, and Harry was no longer a student. He had to admit that in the soft light, Snape looked much better than he had in the past. A bit older perhaps, but without that sallow, greasy look he used to have.

"Fine," Harry bit out, still annoyed at how he and everyone had thought Snape dead for so long, and the pangs of regret he suffered each time he thought of it. "How about starting with why - or _how_ \- are you still alive."

"Fawkes' timely intervention and a vial of antivenom I always keep on my person," Snape replied promptly, still with that mocking tone in his voice. "Next question?"

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Why the hell didn't you let anyone know you're still alive?" he demanded. He had turned a bit to his left to face Snape and didn't notice Al's frown as the boy was sitting on his right.

"For what purpose? So that I could face a trial and imprisonment for all the things I had done?" Snape's voice held a weary note that Harry wasn't unaware of.

"But we cleared your name!" Harry protested. "You wouldn't have been imprisoned. Surely you read about that in the papers!"

Snape was silent for a second, looking almost disconcerted.

"I did," he admitted. "But that was several months after the battle. I deemed it too... late to appear then."

Unable to keep still with his emotions churning inside him, Harry jumped to his feet, letting his towel fall on the sofa.

"You could've at least told one of us! McGonagall or the other professors! Or... or me."

Harry's voice roughened at the end. He cleared his throat as he sank back onto the sofa, not caring that he was sitting on the towel. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Snape always, _always_ had this effect on him.

"Dad?" Al whispered.

Harry turned to him, forcing a small smile to his lips.

"I'm fine," he said, absently patting Al's knee.

Snape cleared his throat and they turned to him in unison. He studied them for a moment, head tipped a bit to one side.

"He is... the mirror image of you. Your son. The pictures in the papers do not do that justice."

Despite the tense situation and his jumbled up emotions, Harry couldn't hold back a smile. He never got tired of hearing that. With that small bit of tension drained away, he reached for one of the mugs on the tray and took a sip. The tea was black, strong and fragrant. He took a big gulp as Al leaned forward to claim his own mug.

After a few moments, Snape sighed and uncrossed his legs.

"I did read about your... crusade, as it were, to clear my name. Your efforts and that of the other professors are... appreciated."

Just like that, Harry found all the wind taken out of his sails. A small part of him pointed out that Snape was a master of manipulation, but the other part appreciated the gratitude, as belated and stilted as the words were.

He nodded.

After another pause, Snape cleared his throat.

"You shared the memories I gave you."

"Yes, but not of your childhood or of my mum," Harry clarified. "Just those of you and Dumbledore, showing that he'd asked you to spy for him and that he'd asked you to... to kill him."

Reaching into his shirt pocket, he took out a stoppered vial which he placed on the coffee table. The swirling silvery smoke inside was unmistakable.

"This is all of it. I refused to let the Ministry make a copy," he said.

Silence fell for almost a minute as all three males stared at the vial, two of them reliving that fateful night when the memories were extracted. Then Snape roused himself and plucked the vial off the table with long fingers, eyes narrowing at it before he slipped it into his shirt pocket.

"An unbreakable vial. Thank you."

Not knowing what else to say, Harry nodded and took another mouthful of tea, feeling every inch of his soaking wet clothes as well as a crushing tiredness.

"Dad?"

He turned to encounter searching green eyes, so much like his own.

"This is the man you named me after, right?"

"Yes," Harry said simply and glanced at Snape who looked like he was carved from stone before turning back to Al.

"You were named after two great Hogwarts Headmasters, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. And the latter," he turned to Snape who still hadn't moved, "whom the whole world presumed was dead for the past thirteen years, is the bravest wizard I have ever known."

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it and want to read more :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your kind reviews. Enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

 _"You were named after two great Hogwarts Headmasters, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. And the latter," he turned to Snape who still hadn't moved, "whom the whole world presumed was dead for the past thirteen years, is the bravest wizard I have ever known."_

Snape sat there, frozen, eyes glittering with disbelief, and what looked like fragile, painful hope.

Harry stared at him, disconcerted as an uncomfortable realisation unfolded in his mind. Despite the many testimonies Snape had received and the extensive coverage in the newspapers over his true loyalties, having someone name their child after him still managed to floor him.

"The Potions Master double spy?" Al's voice was soft.

Harry turned to see him staring intently at Snape.

"Yeah," he said and grimaced. "He - I met him at Hogwarts, but he isn't exactly the 'long lost friend' I told you."

Al gave him a wry look which, not for the first time, made Harry feel like he was the younger of the two.

"I gathered as much, dad."

Harry had to smile at his son's deadpan voice. He turned back to Snape who had snapped out of his shock to nod at him.

"I am honoured, Potter. Thank you."

Harry nodded as well, unsure of what he should say to that. Somehow, 'You're welcome' didn't quite fit the situation.

"Do you have anymore pressing questions?" Snape's dark eyes flicked to Albus and then back to Harry.

It took Harry an embarrassingly long moment to recall his next question, long enough for Snape to start looking amused again.

"Well, what have you been doing all this time?"

Now Snape looked like he was a hairsbreadth away from rolling his eyes.

"Potions, of course," he replied. "I am ill suited for anything else, and there isn't a ready market for the Dark Arts."

He held up an elegant hand to forestall Harry's next - and just as predictable question.

"Mail order under a company name. I do not intend to open an apothecary. And yes, it earns me a comfortable enough living as you can see."

The brief silence that followed was broken by the unmistakable crunch of a biscuit.

"Sorry, 'm hungry," Al mumbled when both sets of eyes swung to him. His stomach growled right on cue and he turned pink.

Harry chuckled as he ruffled Al's hair, only to have his hand pushed away with a whispered, "Dad...!"

"Sorry, son. I really shouldn't have brought you along," he apologised and turned to Snape.

"I guess we should-" he began only to break off when Snape shook his head.

"The rain will continue until morning."

"I know, but-" Harry broke off again when Snape rose to his feet.

"I was about to have dinner. You two might as well join me."

"Oh, we really shouldn't-"

"Potter. And Potter. I insist. Come along now." With that, the Potions Master spun on his heel and headed for one of the doors in the far wall.

Harry closed his mouth with a snap, feeling like he been given an order rather than an invitation; and worse still, like he was a student again. He looked over his shoulder at Al who shrugged, crammed the last of the biscuit into his mouth and stood up.

\- o -

 _An hour later..._

Snape's guest bedroom was small and sparsely furnished with dark curtains at the window, a queen size bed and a small chest of drawers. The sheets were clean and Harry suspected Snape had made the bed or at least Vanished the dust when he ate quickly and excused himself during dinner.

Which was a large pot of chicken stew with onions, carrots, potatoes and mushrooms, the gravy fragrant with thyme and oregano. Snape had looked pleased at Harry's praise and the sight of Al polishing off a large bowlful. When Harry commented on the quantity, Snape had replied it was more convenient for him to cook enough to freeze for meals later in the week, and brushed aside Harry's quick apology.

While Snape was dishing out the stew and Al getting bowls from the cupboard, Harry had ducked out of the kitchen to send a Patronus to Ginny and finally remembered to cast the Hot-Air charm on his person. He was sure it didn't do a thing for his hair (nothing ever did), but at least he was dry. He was also positive that Snape had to be mentally rolling his eyes at him the whole time - the Vanquisher of Voldemort, soaking his sofa cushions instead of drying himself off like how any half decent wizard or witch would.

"You must be so relieved he's still alive, dad."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry blinked to see Al looking intently at him, already in bed with his clothes Transfigured into pyjamas.

"I am, son. It was... " he exhaled, "one of the things that always bothered me."

Al frowned, drawing up his knees under the blanket and folding his arms over them.

"Because his body was never found?"

"Yes. And because-" Harry broke off and pressed his lips together.

Despite being more than a decade old, the loss of lives in the Battle of Hogwarts was still a painful one. Seeing the same old articles in the papers every year was a bad enough reminder, but it was Snape's death that Harry found hardest to bear. He wasn't sure why since many of the others had been closer to him.

Remus, Tonks and Fred were practically family. Maybe it was because, as untimely as their deaths had been, they had managed to achieve something before they died. Fred and George's shop had been doing well, while Remus and Tonks had become parents.

Snape, on the other hand, hadn't achieved anything he could justifiably be proud of except maybe keeping Harry alive, a task he took no pleasure in. He had almost died without anyone knowing or even caring about his true loyalties. Voldemort had tried to kill him, not because he had found out, but simply to make himself master of the Elder Wand. Snape had almost died that night knowing he would never be lauded or hailed a hero.

"Dad? Because what?"

Harry hesitated, that stressful night when he had left behind the last of his innocence pressing upon his mind. Both he and Ginny had made a point of not discussing the battle with their children, finding the yearly articles reminder enough.

But right now, in this small room with Al looking at him with curious eyes and the heavy downpour outside, closing them off from the rest of the world, Harry felt he could unbend the rule just a bit.

"Because the last time I saw Snape was when he gave me his memories." Harry omitted the words 'as he lay dying in a pool of his own blood', but he could still visualise that scene as if it had happened just yesterday - the coppery smell of blood, the sweat running down his forehead and neck, the horror of what he, Hermione and Ron had just witnessed, the paralysing fear that Voldemort would win, and the utter helplessness of not knowing what to do next.

"Was that the night he supposedly died?"

Harry nodded and swallowed.

"After I viewed those memories, I understood so much more, but there was no time to tell him that."

There was no time to tell anyone anything then. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push back the memories of that night, interspersed with the old, abrasive memories of their numerous confrontations during his school years. There was no point in dwelling on them anymore, not when he had defeated Voldemort and survived.

A hand touched his and Harry opened his eyes to see Albus looking solemnly at him.

"You can tell him now."

Harry hesitated before shaking his head, still feeling that heavy exhaustion weighing him down.

"It's too late for that, Al." _Thirteen years too late._ "Besides, he already knows since it's all in the papers about how we cleared his name."

"I know, but..." Albus worried his lower lip with his teeth before nodding. "I think you should still tell him. Now."

"But he already knows," Harry protested, inwardly wincing at how he sounded.

"Just _tell_ him, dad. If nothing else, you'll feel better," Albus insisted. "Isn't that why you tried to find him?"

No, that was because of the dreams, Harry wanted to say, but he pressed his lips together again. No doubt Al thought he needed this, thanks to his earlier outburst in the living room. Still, looking into those hopeful green eyes so like his own made a reluctant smile tug at his lips.

"Alright, maybe I will," he said. "But in the meantime, you get to sleep. It's been a long day."

Al snuggled down in the bed and Harry bent to kiss his forehead.

"Goodnight. Love you."

"Goodnight, dad. Love you too."

Harry left the room after switching off the light and closing the door. He took a deep breath, unconsciously squaring his shoulders before heading for the living room.

It was time to talk to Snape and perhaps find some closure for that night so many years ago.

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it and want to read more :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your kind reviews and enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

Snape was in the living room, sitting in the same armchair with one leg over the other. The table lamp was positioned such that a perfect circle of light fell on the open book in his lap.

Harry stayed by the door, studying him in silence. Snape really _did_ look much better compared to his Hogwarts years. More approachable certainly, with the top two buttons of his shirt undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, something he had attended to before serving dinner.

Was this how he spent his evenings, enjoying the company of a book in the comfort of his home?

Some would consider it dreadfully dull, but Harry could appreciate its appeal for a double spy who had spent half his life in constant danger. He too, had enjoyed many such evenings when his children were in bed or at The Burrow, even if his choice of reading material was likely very different from Snape's.

Simply being able to call his soul and his time his own, was its own reward.

It wasn't until Snape looked up with both eyebrows raised that Harry realised he had been caught staring.

"Al's in bed," he said the first thing that popped into his head. "It's been a long day."

Snape nodded and gestured to the sofa beside him in invitation.

Harry came forward and, after a moment of hesitation, took the leftmost seat, nearest to Snape. He ran a surreptitious palm over the middle cushion only to find the fabric dry as a bone.

"Rest assured, I will not be sending you a dry cleaning bill."

The dry tone had Harry pressing his lips together, barely stopping himself from snatching back his right hand.

I should've cast the Hot Air charm earlier," he admitted.

"Which makes it all the more amazing that you succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord," came the even drier response.

Harry quirked a wry smile, unable to take offence since Snape almost looked like he was teasing.

"Maybe it was just _sheer dumb luck,_ as McGonagall once told Ron and myself," he countered. A lifetime ago, he thought with a sudden wave of fond nostalgia.

Snape closed his book and placed it on the side table. He tipped his head to one side, regarding Harry with an expression more quizzical than mocking.

"Luck may have played her part when you, Granger and Weasley found me in the Shrieking Shack, but the eventual outcome was more a testament of your courage and convictions than anything else."

Harry blinked in surprise - high praise indeed from Snape - before giving a diffident shrug.

"All I knew was that I was terri-" he broke off abruptly, not wanting Snape to think he was fishing for compliments.

"Terrified?" Snape's voice was quiet. "You were seventeen, Potter, facing the Dark Lord on your own while bearing the burden of everyone's hopes on your shoulders. You had every right to be scared. But you know the definition of courage as well as I do, and you exemplified it that night."

Harry swallowed, caught off guard by the words and the unexpected gleam of respect in those black eyes.

"Yeah, well..." he paused to clear his throat, "you epitome that definition more than I, or anyone ever could."

Snape looked as startled as Harry felt before inclining his head.

It was still raining outside; a steady downpour unaccompanied by thunder or lightning. A constant white noise that made Harry feel like he was, once again, cut off from the rest of the world.

He stared back at Snape, Al's words echoing inside his mind. It was the perfect moment to bring up all the things he had kept bottled up for more than a decade.

Again, it was Snape who moved first, flicking a hand at a side cupboard. The doors opened and a bottle of wine, half filled, and two goblets floated over to the coffee table. Then Snape regarded him again, lips quirking.

"Appropriate, don't you think, seeing that we have already graduated to exchanging compliments and indulging in maudlin recollections?"

With that tiny smile still playing about his lips - a sight Harry found both disturbing and strangely fascinating - Snape uncrossed his legs and leaned forward to pour the wine.

Harry moistened his lips.

"There were so many things I wanted to tell you after watching your memories that night," he began.

Snape stopped pouring to frown at him.

"Potter. That wasn't an invitation to continue."

"I know, but-"

"Potter."

"... I need to say them regardless."

 _"Harry."_

That stopped Harry more effectively than a hand over his mouth could have.

"Whatever you want to say, it's not necessary."

Snape had put down the bottle. He was still leaning forward, shoulder length hair framing his face and forearms resting on his thighs, but he was no longer smiling.

In the resultant silence, Harry felt something bloom in the small space between them; something soft and prickly and new.

"I know, but I want to," he said quietly. "I've wanted to ever since I knew."

Snape pressed his lips together and leaned back in his chair so suddenly it made Harry blink. All he lacked was the folding of arms across his chest and a stuck out lower lip to resemble a petulant child.

"What good would that do now?"

Harry shrugged.

"Possibly make me feel better?" he suggested. "I'd have done so at your grave if there was one."

With a sigh, Snape tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. Harry found himself staring at a long pale neck and delicate collarbones framed by the open neck of the dark shirt.

It felt... odd, attributing an adjective like 'delicate' to someone like Snape.

"Fine. Talk away if you think it will help."

Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded and centred his thoughts, trying to come up with the words that would best convey his feelings.

"Perhaps a sip of wine first, to help the thought process along?"

Harry glared at him, but grabbed a glass and drank a mouthful. The merlot was smooth, flowing down his throat, warming his stomach... and bringing the words he needed rising to his lips.

"Thank you," he started, "for keeping your promise to watch over me, for making sure I stayed alive all those years. I know your promise wasn't to me, and that you did it unwillingly, but I guess it can't have been - no, I _know_ it wasn't a pleasant task."

"Try almost impossible with the three of you running headlong into danger at every turn."

Harry shrugged at the deadpan tone.

"Yeah, well... we survived."

"Thanks, no doubt, to that element of _sheer dumb luck_ as you put it."

Well, Snape certainly hadn't lost his ability for dry repartee. It would have annoyed Harry no end in the past, but now he just felt reluctant amusement.

"Fine," Snape said. "Your gratitude is duly noted. What else do you need to get off your chest?"

Harry hesitated before forging on, leaning forward in turn, hands tightly clasped. He was determined to clear another, equally old misunderstanding.

"I may share some similarities with my father, but never arrogance or bullying. _Never._ I-I hope you have realised that much, at least by now."

When Snape's face tightened briefly in anger, Harry knew he was thinking of that glimpse he had had of Snape's past so many years ago. Maybe he would be thrown out into the rain after all?

Then Snape sighed and nodded, looking weary.

"I do. And I... regret my past... misconceptions."

The words were low, but audible.

Harry took a deep breath and released it in a long sigh, feeling the softening of something tight and hard inside him; something that had always niggled, like a wound not healed right. He raised his glass and drank another mouthful.

Snape was still staring at him, dark eyes wary as if their owner expected other, equally painful issues to surface.

But Harry had none left.

"Thank you," he said and meant it.

Relief flitted across Snape's face. He reached for his glass and drained it in one go, looking strangely shaken for someone so self assured.

After a long moment, Harry cleared his throat.

"I guess... I can't blame you for keeping a low profile after everything you'd been through," he offered.

Still, was self imposed isolation really the better choice?

To have survived Voldemort and the Battle of Hogwarts only to live alone with nothing but one's memories for company?

But _was_ Snape alone?

"Is there someone in your life?" Harry blurted out next, only to cringe at how rude it sounded. But he hadn't seen anything that would suggest someone else living here.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I, uh... I just wondered." Actually, Harry was just relieved at not being hexed to bits where he sat.

"There isn't," Snape reiterated and leaned forward once more, arms resting on knees, one long fingered hand cradling his empty glass as his eyes bored into Harry's. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Harry parroted.

"Do you have someone in your life?" Snape asked, voice so low it was almost guttural.

Harry felt his skin prickle all over with goose bumps and was hard pressed not to shiver in reaction.

"No," he said with a grimace. "As I'm sure you know since you've kept up with the Prophet."

Snape nodded, but didn't say anything more.

"Why _did_ you send me those dreams?" Harry asked abruptly. "So that I would come seek you out?"

"Yes."

"But why now? After thirteen years? Why not before?" Harry persisted.

"The answer is in this year's Prophet."

And there was Snape being all cryptic again. Harry tried not to roll his eyes. Instead he frowned, trying to recall what was different about those articles that appeared in the Prophet each May without fail.

"Or perhaps I should say sleeping in my guest bedroom."

Harry's eyes snapped to his at once.

 _"Al?"_

Snape nodded again.

Now Harry recalled the rather lengthy article about Al starting at Hogwarts this year, and how he would compare to his older brother James.

"But what's Al got to do with letting me know?"

Snape looked down at the empty glass in his hand and Harry couldn't help noticing the contrast of long dark lashes against pale skin.

"Severus isn't that rare a name contrary to what others think," Snape finally said. "For all I know, your second son could have been named after a distant Weasley ancestor, but the fact that you agreed to it made me believe the time was right."

"Right for what?" Harry asked, wondering who else would have named their child Severus... other than Snape's parents.

Snape's eyes lifted to his, this time gleaming with such intent that Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. Then the tip of a pink tongue appeared to moisten thin lips and Harry found his throat suddenly dry.

"To finally put the past behind us," Snape said, "and to get to know each other better."

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it and want to read more :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your kind reviews and enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

"Get to know each other better?" Harry repeated.

A common enough phrase except for the look Snape was giving him now. Expectant. Focused. As if there was another meaning behind his words that he wanted Harry to decipher.

"What do you mean?" Harry decided he wasn't up to the task tonight.

"What do you think I mean?" Snape dropped his voice again, making it sound like a throaty purr.

Harry did shiver this time, goose bumps rippling across his skin. He licked his lips, his throat dry despite the Merlot.

Why did it feel like Snape meant something other than mere friendship?

Like he was perhaps, well... _interested_ in him?

Impossible!

Snape had never given any indication that he was interested in anyone save Lily Evans. Harry had always thought him straight, unlike Dumbledore whom he had sometimes wondered about.

So perhaps Snape _didn't_ mean it that way. But if there was another meaning to his words then Harry wasn't capable of deducing it right now.

"Do you mean... uh, romantically?" He decided to just grab the proverbial bull by the horns, almost choking on that last word.

"Yes."

Harry gaped at him, still sitting on the sofa with his feet on the floor, while the world dropped out from under him.

"But you loved my mum!"

"A very long time ago when she and I studied at Hogwarts."

"But you told Dumbledore that when he asked if you were starting to care for me! It was one of the memories you gave me that night."

"That was much later, Potter, during your sixth year. And I never stated it outright. It was... implied."

"But you conjured your Patronus for Dumbledore to see! It was a doe, the same as my mum's," Harry argued.

"Have _you_ ever seen your mother's Patronus? Has anyone?" Snape countered.

Harry frowned and shook his head.

"To my knowledge, no one has seen Lily's Patronus," Snape said, holding up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to speak. "I agree, there is a general consensus that if she had a Patronus, it would have taken the form of a doe, to complement your father's."

"Exactly!" Harry pounced on that. "So yours is also a doe because-"

"Because it complements _someone else's Patronus!_ " Snape interrupted him, sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again.

Snape leaned forward, pinning him with those glittering eyes.

"So unless you are implying that I had feelings for your father, in which case you are even more of a dunderhead than I thought-"

"Of course I'm not!" Harry protested, rather aghast at the thought.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not implying that I had feelings for James Potter, or not a dunderhead?"

"Both!" Harry glared at him.

Snape nodded, a tiny smirk quirking his lips.

"I am glad to know you are not a total lost cause."

Harry huffed at that before his brief amusement vanished.

"So, how long have you... have you..." he trailed off, grimacing a bit when the rest of his words got stuck in his throat.

"How long have I had feelings for you?" Snape apparently had no such trouble with his throat. "Ever since the start of your sixth year."

Harry stared at him, stunned.

"You... you never said a word," he protested weakly.

Snape uttered a sound that was very nearly a snort.

"What was I supposed to say?" he growled. "You were my student! I was a double spy! _Everything_ hinged on me keeping the Dark Lord's trust!"

Harry cast his mind back to his sixth year, wondering what had he said or done that could possibly have made him attractive to Snape. All he could think of was the Half Blood Prince's book and the death that marked the end of that year, and how he had raced after Snape in blind fury, thinking that he had killed Dumbledore in cold blood despite the latter's pleading.

And how different that was to the actual truth.

Snape was still glaring at him, making Harry wonder for a moment if he had just imagined all this.

"And you, uh, feel like that... even now?" he asked.

Snape's scowl vanished and he nodded.

"Always."

Harry blushed.

Snape drew a deep breath and released it.

"I kept telling myself it was because you have Lily's eyes. Or because I had watched over you for so long. Then I was branded Dumbledore's murderer and a traitor. Things got worse. After the Final Battle, I went into hiding and next thing I knew, you were married to Miss Weasley."

Harry had to bite his lip to avoid blurting out why they had gotten married in the first place.

"Was that why you never contacted any of us?" he asked instead.

Snape nodded, looking weary again.

"I thought I had lost my chance, at least, until you two were divorced. But I still wasn't sure how you felt about me until I read that article on Al." He paused to moisten his lips, still looking straight into Harry's eyes. "I told myself it was finally time to act, before you found someone else."

Harry stared at him as everything he knew and believed in for the past thirteen years shattered inside him.

Snape looked down at the glass in his hands as if fearing he had said too much... or perhaps fearing Harry's reaction.

Harry lowered his gaze as well, staring at those long, thin fingers, their tips stained from years of working with potion ingredients. He couldn't help imagining - just for a second - how they would feel touching him.

His face.

His hands.

Everywhere else.

Another shiver rippled through him, and again, it wasn't out of disgust or revulsion. In fact, just thinking about Snape's confession and the numbers of years he had kept his secret and bided his time made Harry's chest ache, prompting him to do something.

His world had shattered and was rebuilding itself into something new, something he had never before imagined, but now seemed like the most natural thing to do.

Setting his glass on the coffee table, Harry slid off the sofa, knees meeting the wooden floor with soft thumps. He shuffled across the tiny distance between them, aware of Snape's startled gaze as he reached out a hand, taking Snape's glass and setting it beside his on the table. Then he looked up and met those dark eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," he said.

"There's no need to apologise, Potter," Snape said stiffly, holding himself very still. "None of this is your fault."

"I know, but-" Very slowly, Harry reached out that same hand again and rested it on Snape's knee, which felt rather bony under his palm.

They looked at each other, perhaps for the first time, with no animosity or prejudices between them. Then Snape swallowed and moved his own hand to cover Harry's.

"Potter, you said I am the bravest man you know."

"You are."

"But how can I be brave if it's taken me this long?"

"To confess?"

"Yes. And to do... this."

Leaning forward, Snape tilted his head a bit to the side and touched his lips to Harry's.

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it and want to read more, would love to hear from you :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

The first thing Harry felt when those thin lips met his was a sense of wonder, and a recognition of sorts that sent a shiver down his spine and into his knees, making them tremble on the floor. Because while kissing Cho had been disappointing and kissing Ginny had been explosive, kissing Snape was, quite simply, like coming home.

When Snape started to withdraw, Harry tightened his hold on his knee and grabbed his shoulder to maintain contact, even slanting his head to make their lips fit better. His hand moved to the back of Snape's neck, fingers dipping beneath the shirt collar. A part of his mind was still surprised that he was kissing _Snape_ of all people, but the rest of it was busy cataloguing other, more important details.

Like how soft Snape's lips were. As soft as his skin against Harry's fingertips, and his hair sliding over the back of Harry's hand.

Eager to find out what he tasted like, Harry licked at the seam of his lips to get them to part. When Snape complied with a tiny, surprised sound, Harry swept his tongue inside and was rewarded with a faint tang of merlot, a hint of oregano, and underneath that, something indefinable yet so familiar.

Potions.

And potions lessons.

And the dungeons of Hogwarts, and the wizard who had inhabited them and left such a deep impression on Harry, from his very first night at Hogwarts when he was eleven, up until that fateful moment in the Shrieking Shack six years later.

It felt like he had come full circle, and that kissing Snape was just like coming home.

When they finally drew back, Harry smiled up at Snape who had a rosy flush on his lean cheeks and a matching tint on his lips.

"That was good," he said.

Snape's expression changed from stunned to cautiously pleased.

"Was it?"

Harry's smile vanished.

"You didn't like it?"

"... no, I did."

Harry frowned, catching that brief hesitation and even briefer flash of uneasiness in those dark eyes.

"But you asked if-" He broke off as Snape tried to stand up and failed, hampered by Harry kneeling between his legs and both hands now resting on his thighs.

"Potter. Excuse me."

"Harry. We just kissed."

"... Harry. Excuse me. I-"

"Wait." Harry's fingers dug into Snape's thighs, a suspicion unfolding in his mind. "How many people have you kissed before me?"

Snape stopped trying to stand up, startled eyes meeting Harry's before darting away, cheeks flushing a deeper pink.

Harry stared at him. Snape wasn't seeing anyone now, but that didn't mean he hadn't before.

Right?

But the growing silence between them, broken only by the sounds of their breathing and the unceasing rain outside, seemed to refute that possibility. A quiet that, in Harry's mind, appeared to stretch from minutes to hours to days, weeks... months... years. All of them filled with nothing.

"You haven't," Harry answered his own question in a low voice, stunned anew.

Snape just gave a jerky nod, face still turned aside.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, pressing his lips together as a thousand, half formed questions fluttered inside his mind, all of them starting with 'Why'. His heart clenched again, harder this time. Slowly, he ran his palms up and down Snape's thighs, feeling the muscles quiver under them.

"Well," he said and waited until Snape's uncertain gaze met his, "let's not stop at just the one."

Rising to his feet, he stepped away from the armchair and held out a hand in invitation.

"I'm getting a crick in my neck," he explained with a wry smile.

Snape stood up as well, relief flitting across his features as he approached Harry, long fingers closing around his.

They kissed again, brief, lingering touches of their lips with their fingers entwined and bodies lightly touching. If the act of kissing was new to Snape then it was equally new for Harry to feel a hint of stubble against his upper lip and a lean, much taller body against his own.

It was Snape who deepened their next kiss, tongue searching out Harry's with growing confidence and latent skill, until they had to part for air again. They were breathing quickly by now, lips tingling and bodies warm.

"Stay with me tonight," Snape urged, his voice low and rough.

Harry blinked up at him, slowly coming out of his haze.

"What? Do you mean...?" He couldn't finish his question, mind stumbling to a stop.

Snape nodded, hands sliding from Harry's shoulders down his back and over his buttocks, long fingers splaying wide and giving a sharp tug.

Harry inhaled sharply as their hips met and he felt a growing hardness through his jeans that mirrored his own.

"Wait. Are you proposing that we... that we-" Again, his throat failed him as his mind helpfully supplied all sorts of images that made him blush.

"Make love? Yes." Snape was still staring at him intently.

Harry's breath whooshed out in a surprised huff.

"I... it's a bit sudden, isn't it?"

"You didn't say no," Snape pointed out.

"I didn't say yes either," Harry countered. _"Why?"_

When Snape's expression turned to one of disbelief, Harry quickly held up a hand.

"I mean, I know why... but - tonight?"

Snape swallowed, but his glittering eyes continued to bore into Harry's.

"I know you're still young."

"I'm thirty. What's that got to do with this?"

"I'm fifty," Snape said. "Not middle aged. Not yet, but getting there."

Not for the first time was Harry reminded of how long Wizardkind lived. But the fact remained that...

"I've never been with a man," he blurted out, long past the point of diplomacy. "Only with Ginny."

"And I've never been with anyone." Despite his startling disclosure, Snape's voice remained as steady as his gaze.

Harry's eyes went wide as his world promptly dropped out from under him again.

"Never?" he parroted.

"Never."

Harry had to swallow an almost hysterical urge to laugh. He was being propositioned, his heart was racing and his mind completely empty of words except for those distracting images played on repeat.

"I, uh, don't know what to say," he finally confessed. "When I started searching for you, I never expected... this."

It hurt, seeing the fire die from Snape's eyes as he took a step back, hands falling from Harry.

"My apologies. It is too sudden."

Harry wet his lips, one hand half raised to reach for Snape, only to fall back to his side.

"It is, but I didn't mean-"

"Forget it." Snape's face smoothed out into a blank mask, that longing gone from his voice as if it never existed.

"No. Wait, please," Harry protested. "Al is here."

Snape blinked and then he grimaced, looking chagrined.

"You're right, he is," he said. "Well, it's late, Potter. You should get some sleep. Goodnight."

"Yes, but wait a moment."

Spinning on his heel, Snape strode to the same door Harry had used earlier and wrenched it open.

"Snape, wait!"

But the door clicked closed with a finality that echoed inside Harry's mind as he stood alone in the living room.

The realisation came to him then - daunting, nerve wracking and thrilling all at once - that if it weren't for his hesitation and Al sleeping in the guest bedroom, he might very well be in Severus Snape's bedroom right now.

And despite the shock and suddenness of it all, Harry couldn't help wishing that he hadn't brought Al with him on this trip.

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it and want to read more, would love to hear from you :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

The guest bedroom was dark except for a swath of light at the foot of the bed, courtesy of the street lamp outside the window. The rainwater dripping down the glass pane distorted the light, creating a ripple effect on the covers.

Closing the door behind him, Harry tipped his head back, closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He had stood in the living room for a good fifteen minutes, vacillating between going after Snape to demand that he listen to him, or leaving him alone until morning. But he hadn't changed his mind about what he had said.

It _was_ all too sudden, and Al _was_ here.

There were a few reasons why Harry hadn't gotten involved with anyone after his divorce. First, anything he did (or didn't do) inevitably found its way into the newspapers, and he had his children to think about. Second, his marriage to Ginny, thanks to one careless incident, had taught him not to rush into things, even though he remained on good terms with her and the other Weasleys. Third, he had no idea what Snape wanted other than physical intimacy, or he himself for that matter.

Up until half an hour ago, Harry hadn't even known he would enjoy kissing a man.

As for Al's presence, hiding behind locked doors and silencing charms were all well and good, but what if Al woke up and went looking for him?

The thought of explaining where he had spent the night to his younger son, who could put two and two together faster than most adults, made Harry feel hot and cold all over.

Straightening up, he took out his wand to Transfigure his clothes into pyjamas. He had brushed his teeth and washed up in the small bathroom, and was tired enough to just strip down to his boxers if Al weren't here. Then again, if that was the case, would he even... need them?

Harry pushed that thought away as a soft rustle came from the bed.

"Dad?"

"Al. I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I couldn't sleep," Al replied as he shifted to sit up.

"Different bed, huh?" Harry sank onto the mattress and gave him a tired smile. "Well, keep trying. We've had a long day."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I... went to the kitchen. Earlier. To get a drink of water."

Something in Al's hesitant voice, in the very careful way he spoke, made Harry's heart skip a beat.

"I didn't know if you were going to sleep on the sofa or in here," Al continued, "and I couldn't hear any voices so I peeped in the living room."

This time, Harry's heart lurched.

"And?" His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

"I saw you and Professor Snape... snogging."

The wave of heat that surged into Harry's face was so hot it felt like he had stuck his head into a lit fireplace. He stared at Al, mortified.

"Oh, shi- Merlin, I'm sorry, Al!"

"Why?"

" _Why?_ Well, uh..." Harry's mind went blank for the umpteenth time tonight. Maybe he was getting old. Or senile. Or both.

Al drew his knees up under the blanket and and wrapped his arms around them like he did before.

"It's not like you're still married to mum."

"I know, but-"

"And it's not like you're dating someone else. Are you?"

"No, of course not! But-"

"Besides, you and Professor Snape are both adults."

Harry opened his mouth, couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again so he could swallow. He was still blushing hot enough to fry an egg on his head.

"And well... it looked pretty consensual to me."

The smile in Al's voice made Harry want to hide his face in his hands, but he resisted.

"How much did you see?"

"That was all. You stood up then and I was afraid you'd see me so I came back here."

Harry bit his lip.

"Did you hear what we said?"

Al nodded, now looking a bit embarrassed himself.

"Something about not stopping at just the one."

Harry bit back a groan and ran a hand down his face, skin prickling with renewed embarrassment. Merlin, Snape would kill them _both_ if he knew Al had overheard their conversation!

"I guess it didn't end well?" Al asked after a moment. "I heard you call out 'wait' and then the sound of a door closing."

Harry hesitated. He should tell his son to not worry and just go to sleep already, but a part of him desperately wanted someone to confide in, if only a little.

"No. It didn't end well," he finally admitted, wondering if he could have handled that scene better.

They were both silent for a long moment and then Al cleared his throat.

"He fancies you, dad," he pointed out. "He was staring at you during dinner. And even before."

"Yeah. I know that now." Harry was glad the bedroom was dark because he couldn't seem to stop blushing.

"Do you feel the same?"

When Harry gave him a sharp look, Al shrugged.

"You've been searching for him for a few months now. You drove all the way here even though you dislike driving. And you told me you were always troubled by his death and how you wished you could've told him things."

Harry shook his head.

"Those things were about what I had found out from his memories that night. His role as a double spy and... other things. Not this."

"Well, maybe you had to get those out of the way first so you two could move onto... you know, _this_."

Harry gave a mirthless chuckle.

"Maybe," he mumbled, deciding he wasn't only senile but mental as well. Why else would he be confiding in his eleven year old son about his romantic woes?

"Do you mind?" The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Al solemnly shook his head.

"My dad, who I think is the bravest man in the whole world, considers Professor Snape the bravest man _he_ knows. He named me after him. Why would I mind?"

As Harry stared at him in amazement, Al continued.

"Besides, mum's dating someone. Why shouldn't you? Just because Professor Snape is a wizard and not a witch? Mum's happy now and you deserve to be too, dad."

Harry swallowed, his throat feeling tight.

"I appreciate that, but what about you and-"

"It's none of my business. Or James' or Lil's or anyone else's for that matter. It's yours... and his."

If Harry lived to be a hundred, he would never understand how he and Ginny had managed to produce a child as matured and sensible as Al. Reaching out, he pulled the boy into a hug, his throat so tight he could hardly breathe.

"Thanks, son," he managed. "But I still need to think about this."

"Is that what you told him?"

"Yes. Well, I tried."

"Try again."

"Alright." Harry released Al and smiled at him. "Tomorrow morning."

" _Now_ , dad," Al insisted.

Harry blinked.

"It's been thirteen years since you last saw him," Al pointed out. "I don't think you should put it off anymore."

Harry bit his lip.

"Go on," Al urged. "I'm sure he's waiting for you."

Harry rolled his eyes, but stood up.

"Fine. You'll make a fine counselor when you grow up," he teased, reaching down to ruffle Al's hair.

"Dad...!" Al pushed his hand away. "Just go already!"

Harry bit back a chuckle, feeling almost lightheaded with relief, embarrassment and a sense of deja vu.

"I'm going. And I expect you to be asleep when I come back."

"If you come back, you mean."

Already at the door, Harry looked over his shoulder to see Al's cheeky grin. He pressed his lips together and frowned at him.

"Go to sleep, Al!"

"I will. Good luck, dad."

Harry closed the door behind him before shaking his head, chuckling softly. It looked like Snape had already found himself a staunch supporter, and Harry couldn't help wondering what the man would say to that.

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, would love to hear from you :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

Harry stood outside the door, which by a simple process of elimination, had to be Snape's bedroom. The others in the narrow, dimly lit corridor opened to the kitchen, bathroom, guest bedroom and a potions lab respectively. There were no windows here, but he could still hear the drumming of the rain on the roof.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and knocked on the door.

"Snape? Can I come in?"

Nothing. Harry knocked again, louder.

"Snape, I know you're in there. We need to talk."

Still nothing. Not even a mocking comment about how horribly cliche those words were. Harry counted from one to ten before knocking on the door again, this time with his fist.

"I'm going to keep knocking and calling until you open the door," he stated.

Which happened the very next moment. The door was wrenched open with a suddenness that made him start and take a step back.

"Even if you wake up your son?" Snape growled.

"Even then," Harry agreed cheerfully and lowered his arm.

He decided not to mention that the point was moot anyway, and that he was here _because_ of said son. He also decided not to say anything about the rather old fashioned nightshirt Snape was wearing, which he found both amusing and oddly enchanting.

When Snape stepped back, Harry quickly entered and closed the door behind him, taking in the room with a swift glance. It was a little bigger than the guest bedroom, but furnished just as sparsely; a Queen size bed pushed against the wall, a nightstand, a dresser and a wardrobe. The only light came from a shaded lamp on the nightstand.

"Well?"

Harry turned back to Snape who hadn't moved from his spot, save to cross his arms over his chest and pin a scowl on his face. The forbidding effect was somewhat diluted by what he was wearing.

"Surely you weren't banging on my door just to take a peek at what's inside?"

The old snide tone was back, bringing a rash of memories that Harry pushed back, this time almost absently. Snape was no longer his Potions Professor or his Headmaster, but a man he was now interested in. A man who had had the courage to confess his long hidden feelings and now thought them rebuffed.

"Of course not," Harry replied, belatedly realising he hadn't quite prepared what to say. But he knew what to do.

Taking a step forward, he reached up and pressed his lips to Snape's, hearing the surprised intake of breath before he drew back.

"You didn't listen to what I had to say," he said in a neutral voice.

Snape stared at him.

"When I said not tonight," Harry continued. "I didn't mean not ever."

Snape swallowed, a faint pink stealing over his cheeks.

"You'd have changed your mind by tomorrow," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's why I decided-"

"That it had to be tonight or never?" Harry shook his head, still holding his gaze. "Not after those kisses, I promise."

"Oh." Snape's cheeks turned a deeper pink.

Smiling, Harry stepped forward again and wrapped his arms around Snape's thin waist. He felt two arms going around his shoulders to pull him even closer, and that made him realise - with a tiny pulse of shock - that Snape wasn't wearing anything under his nightshirt.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Harry leaned back to look up at him and gave a rueful smile, realising that Al was, once again, completely right.

"That would be nice," he agreed.

Snape's lips tilted in a small, almost shy smile which vanished when he released Harry and stepped back, one eyebrow going up.

"Nice, Potter?" he repeated in a shadow of his mocking tone. " _Nice?_ "

Harry laughed, relieved to feel the awkward tension between them break.

"Yeah. It'll be nicer still when we finally get to doing something, but for now-"

"It would be nice," Snape finished for him and gave a put on sigh, pursing his lips. "Very well. I do have five different potions to brew and deliver tomorrow."

"We'll be off first thing in the morning," Harry assured him. "I have to drop Al off at the Burrow anyway."

Snape's eyes gleamed at that, but he shook his head.

"After breakfast. I refuse to let my namesake leave here on an empty stomach despite what his dunderhead of a father thinks. Besides, it's the least I can do since he's the reason you're here now."

Harry blinked and then his mouth dropped open in shock.

"Wait - you heard us?"

"No," Snape said with a smirk, "but I can read you without Legilimency, Harry."

"Oh! Merlin, I'm sorry! Al couldn't sleep so he-"

Snape held up a hand and shook his head, effectively stopping Harry mid-sentence.

"I think it's better for my sanity if I don't know what he did, saw or heard."

"Right," Harry said weakly.

"Anyway, it's time for bed. Some of tomorrow's ingredients need to be harvested at dawn."

"Right," Harry said again and made a show of looking around. "I don't suppose you have another of those charming nightshirts for me?"

"None that would suit you," Snape replied after a moment.

"Very well." Harry made a show of pursing his lips in turn. "I guess I'll just have to sleep in my boxers, won't I?"

The interested glint in Snape's eyes made Harry very glad he was lean and fit, thanks to his Quidditch career. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged it off and turned to hang it on the convenient row of hooks behind the door, beside Snape's dark clothes. Then he took off his jeans and hung that up too, aware of the heated gaze affixed to his rear.

"Maybe I should get you something to wear, after all."

Harry turned back, grinning at Snape's muttered words.

"Too late," he said and sauntered over to the bed before looking over his shoulder. "Coming?"

"I am _not_ going to dignify that with an answer."

Harry chuckled and got into bed, sliding his legs under the covers. He shifted nearer to the wall as Snape switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness except for a faint light from the window.

Snape lay down beside him and for a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then Snape spoke.

"Turn around, Harry."

Harry obeyed and felt Snape shift closer, an arm going around his waist, long bare legs tangling with his... and something hard nestling against his buttocks.

"... do you mind?"

Smiling at the slight hesitation in that low voice, Harry shook his head.

"I have one too, Snape."

"I know. And it's Severus."

Harry rose up onto his elbow and looked over his shoulder.

"Severus," he repeated and smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Harry."

They exchanged a light kiss and Harry settled down again, biting his lip as Snape tugged him closer and his body tightened in anticipation. Not tonight or even tomorrow, but he didn't think Snape - Severus - would have to wait too long before they took things to the next level.

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, would love to hear from you :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Author Notes:** Hello again, everyone! Thank you so much for your kind reviews and enjoy the next chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

Bright green eyes blinked open and squinted hazily at an unfamiliar ceiling before widening in shock. Bolting upright, Harry looked around him. The small room he was in wasn't the master bedroom of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and the bed he was in wasn't his own.

It wasn't a dream after all. Severus Snape was still alive and well... and fancied him.

When his body gave a throb at that, Harry smiled rather foolishly before flopping back down on the bed and stretching his arms and legs. The sheets smelled deliciously of Severus and he took a deep breath, goose bumps rippling over his skin.

Al was right on both counts - that Harry wouldn't return to the guest bedroom to sleep, and that he had never really come to terms with Severus' supposed demise thirteen years ago.

Sitting up again, Harry saw the weak sunlight streaming in from the window and finally realised, from the silence around him, that the rain had stopped. He turned to grab his glasses from the top of the tall wooden headboard and slipped them them on before bounding out of bed, almost tripping on the covers in his haste.

The window looked out into the front garden. Someone was crouched in it, someone dressed in dark clothes with a basket beside him, the early morning sun glinting off the jet black hair tied in a low, neat ponytail.

Harry's heart give a little leap and a voice whispered helpfully in his mind that he should go help Severus, but he squashed it flat. It was better that he go wake Al up and get breakfast ready before leaving. He could Apparate Al back to the Burrow (and then Apparate straight back here, that same voice whispered) but there was still the matter of the rented truck to return.

Besides, Severus would be busy brewing potions today, and Harry wanted to think about this for a bit.

Well... not so much think about it as hug it to himself for just a little longer.

\- o -

After washing up, Harry peeped inside the guest bedroom only to find it empty, the bed neatly made. Harry spared Severus' still unmade bed and rumpled sheets a guilty thought before going to the kitchen. Al was sitting at the small kitchen table with a plate of egg and toast and a glass of milk before him. He looked sleepy, but his smile was bright.

"Good morning, dad."

"Morning, Al," Harry entered the kitchen and squeezed his shoulder. "Up bright and early, I see. Here, let me change your clothes back."

A quick wave of his wand and the pyjamas reverted to their previous state, the tingle of magic making Al shiver.

"Thanks, dad. Did you sleep well?"

A perfectly normal enquiry if it weren't for the twinkle in those bright green eyes so like his own, except that Al had 20/20 vision. Harry pressed his lips together, feeling unaccountably like blushing.

"Like a log," he replied after a moment. "What about you?"

"Alright. I might nap on the way back," Al said and changed the subject to Harry's relief.

"I thought of helping to make breakfast, but found these under a stasis charm," he said, gesturing with the handle of his fork to the platter of eggs, bacon and toast in the middle of the table. "There's butter and marmalade. Oh, and tea too."

The old adage of 'The way to a man's heart...' flitted through Harry's mind as he stared at the perfectly cooked food. No, Severus was just being a good host, that was all.

"Well, let's not waste his efforts then," he said and pulled out another chair.

\- o -

 _Forty minutes later..._

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Al said as he held out his hand, his expression solemn. "I'm very glad I got to meet you."

Severus inclined his head, a small smile on his lips as he shook Al's hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Al, " he replied. "I hope we'll meet again."

"I will do my best to make that happen, " Al assured him. His face was the picture of innocence, but standing beside Severus, Harry caught that same twinkle in those green eyes and felt his face heat up again.

"Alright, let's go," he said. He would have liked to kiss Severus goodbye - just to make sure last night's kisses weren't a fluke - but...

"Could you pass me the keys to the truck, dad?" Al asked. "I'll go warm up the engine."

Harry's face got hotter.

"The engine doesn't need warming up," he said. "It's still summer."

"But it rained the whole of last night," Al countered with a winsome smile. "Just pass me the keys. I promise not to drive off. Not that I know how."

Pressing his lips together, Harry looked down while he dug in his jeans pocket.

"Here." He tossed over the keys and looked up just in time to see Al catch them neatly without even looking. It looked like they had the makings of another Seeker in the family... too bad Al preferred reading to Quidditch.

"See you in about five minutes then?" Al's tone was casual, one eye closing in the briefest of winks before he turned and trotted out the front door.

"Brat," Harry mumbled, trying not to smile and failing dismally.

"I haven't met your two other offspring, but I daresay I like Al the best."

Harry turned to see the amused glint in Severus' eyes. He chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm sure the feeling is mutual," he replied in a wry tone.

"And what of his father's feelings?"

The amusement had disappeared, replaced by one of uncertainty instead. Harry smiled and took a step closer to him.

"Very much what they were last night," he assured and reached up.

The kiss that followed was soft and almost shy at first. Then one of them - or maybe both - groaned and the kiss turned deep and hungry, mouths open and fingers sliding into hair.

"You don't have to leave," Severus muttered.

Harry chuckled against his mouth, fingertips now trailing over a long, lean back.

"I have to take Al back and return the truck. And you wouldn't be able to focus on your brewing if we stayed."

Severus raised his head at that and lifted a superior eyebrow, pink lips almost spoiling the effect of utmost disdain.

"I am a Potions Master, Harry. How do you think I brewed a large range of potions with different levels of complexity all those years in a school full of reckless, noisy dunderheads?"

Harry grinned, undeterred.

"With a pair of Sprout's earmuffs?" he teased before reaching up again to kiss away Severus' scowl.

"Come back tonight then?"

It was Harry who pulled back this time. The hopeful longing in those endless black eyes pulled at him, filling him with a need stronger than magic, stronger than the need for caution, for thinking this over, for waiting.

He took a deep breath and nodded.

"I will," he promised.

\- Chapter End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! One final chapter to go. Please leave a review, would love to hear from you :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Author Notes:** Hello, everyone! Thank you once again for all your wonderful reviews and support. Enjoy this final chapter :)

\- Chapter Start -

By the time Harry and Al reached London and returned the rented pickup truck, it was almost eleven. They Apparated to The Burrow where they received a warm welcome from Ginny, James, Lily, Arthur and Molly. Molly had a pot of her famous French onion soup simmering on the stove and insisted that Harry stay for lunch.

It was a noisy but cheerful meal with James and Lily hogging the conversation, giving a blow by blow account of the Quidditch match they had seen yesterday. For once, Harry was grateful for their chatter as he was still distracted by the many discoveries he had made last night. Al was his usual quiet self, content to eat his lunch and listen to his siblings' stories.

After the meal, Harry thanked Molly and Ginny, hugged his children and promised to pick them up on Monday morning, and then flooed back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

It was just past two in the afternoon. Another four hours to while away if he wanted to have dinner with Severus. Another six if he wanted to eat first and go after.

And no need to wait at all if he went to see the man right now, whispered that little voice inside his head.

Ignoring that last one, Harry set about cleaning his home. It was a far cry from the dark, dreary house it had once been. He and Ginny had removed all the paintings and replaced the rotting drapes and heavy furniture with modern furnishings. The ancient plumbing in the bathrooms and kitchen had been upgraded, and the peeling wallpaper replaced with gleaming tiles.

Harry washed up the few dishes in the sink and vacuumed the rooms, preferring to do the chores by hand instead of magic. It was more an exercise to keep himself occupied than because he needed to. He then settled down with a cup of tea and the latest Quidditch Monthly, but all he could think about was how Severus had looked in the small living room of his cottage, comfortable with the life he had at last. He had looked good too, lean and relaxed with the top buttons of his shirt undone, and one long leg crossed over the other...

With an exasperated sigh, Harry tossed the magazine aside and decided on physical exercise. There was a secluded clearing a block away where he practised flying. Ron and Hermione had given him a magical tent two Christmases ago. The outside looked like a normal camping tent for two when it was set up, but the interior was as large and high as a circus big top, the material charmed to mirror the outdoors, like the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

Harry put up a few wards around the area and spent several minutes warming up before taking off on his broom. He sped around the inside of the tent, practising climbs and dives, twists and turns until he was almost dizzy with exhilaration, and grinning with the sheer joy of flying. Then he reached inside his pocket and tossed a tiny velvet bag in the air, flicking his wand at it. The bag enlarged and twenty exclusive, extra fast Snitches exploded from it.

By the time he caught all of them three times over, he was dripping with sweat, his muscles trembling at the workout they had gotten. But more importantly, it was almost six o'clock and his already accelerated heartbeat went up a notch.

He packed up his gear and hurried home to call his favourite Chinese restaurant in London and order a few dishes for for takeaway. Then he sent his Patronus to Snape with five words - 'I'm bringing dinner at seven' before having a much needed shower.

After dressing in a light green shirt and dark trousers, it was time to Apparate to the restaurant to pick up dinner and then go see Severus.

\- o -

The weather was fine in Cardiff. The late evening sun glinted off the windows of the cottage and cast a soft golden light over the plants in the garden. Harry Apparated at the roadside and took a moment to admire the picture perfect view before opening the small gate and stepping through.

When the front door opened, his heart gave a little leap at the sight of the tall figure standing there.

"Severus."

"Good evening, Harry."

Smiling, Harry walked up the path, aware of the dark eyes checking him out and pleased that he had dressed up a bit. Severus was wearing a pristine white shirt and black trousers, his shoulder length hair still damp from a recent shower.

He looked even better than he had last night.

Severus stood aside to let him in before closing the door. For a moment, neither knew what to say and then Harry decided to trust his instincts.

"I've been counting the hours," he admitted and saw the flicker of relief in those dark eyes.

"I've been counting the minutes," Severus confessed with a tiny smile.

Harry grinned and reached up to kiss him, arms going around his waist, one hand still clutching the bag of takeaway food.

"Potter, if you drip anything down the back of my trousers-"

"Harry. And it's all packed in sealed containers, don't worry."

"I would feel better if you put that down first."

"After a kiss."

Harry got three before he drew back, satisfied.

"'Fess up, Severus, you were too busy brewing today to give me any thought," he teased, almost giddy at how easily he could that. It shouldn't be this easy... but he wasn't about to complain.

Severus looked down his nose at him, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"As amazing as the notion may seem to you, some people are capable of multi tasking."

Harry chuckled, handing over the bag.

"And you are a master at that," he agreed and followed Severus to the kitchen, admiring how the well cut trousers clung to those lean hips.

\- o -

Severus opened a bottle of white wine which went well with the sweet and sour chicken, deep fried wonton, mixed vegetables and fried noodles. Despite the exercise he had gotten though, all Harry could focus on was the muted longing in Severus' eyes as they ate and the glances they stole, his body warming from the wine and the anticipation of what would follow.

Halfway through dinner, he put down his spoon and fork, the resultant clink sounding overly loud in the kitchen.

"Let's finish the rest later," he said abruptly. How ironic when it was he who had balked at the idea of intimacy last night.

Severus paused with a piece of chicken on his fork halfway to his mouth before he nodded and put down his fork.

"Very well."

Draining his wineglass, Harry stood up and held out his hand. Severus cast a quick stasis charm over the uneaten food before standing up. Hand in hand, they left the kitchen.

\- o -

The master bedroom looked the same as it had last night, except for the last few rays of the setting sun slanting in the window from the west... and clean sheets on the bed.

"What happened to all of this being too sudden?"

Harry turned from the bed to look at Severus who was regarding him with a puzzled air, their fingers still entwined. He cleared his throat.

"Last night, you said you'd decided the time was right to contact me when you saw the article on Al."

Severus nodded.

"Well, when we left this morning, I decided the time was right too. I realised that I'd been waiting for thirteen years."

Severus exhaled softly in relief, fingers tightening around Harry's to pull him closer.

One kiss flowed into another... and another... all of them seeming both urgent and languid at the same time. Then Harry stepped back and licked his lips, relishing the taste of wine and Severus.

Take off your shirt," he said softly. "Or I will. "

With breaking their gaze, Severus complied, pulling the shirttails free of his trousers before unbuttoning it. His face remained calm, but his eyes were not, glittering with a thousand emotions.

Harry swallowed, awed anew that this man, whom he had heartily disliked for most of his Hogwarts years, only to admire at the end of it right before losing him for so long... was in love with him. And while he didn't know exactly how he felt about Severus right now, he knew he was more than willing to put everything he had into this.

The last button slipped free and the shirt hung open, displaying a rectangle of smooth, pale skin with just a few dark hairs. Harry's fingers tingled with the need to touch and explore. He looked up.

"Take it off," he said, his voice gaining a hoarse note.

Severus gave a jerky nod and obeyed, revealing two flat pink nipples.

Harry's mouth actually watered at the sight. He was moving before he knew it, hands gliding over the smooth shoulders and mouth going for one of the nipples, startling a cry from Severus as the shirt fell to the floor.

\- o -

 _Some time later..._

Severus rolled off Harry and sat up only to have a leg thrown over his.

"Don't go."

"I just-"

"No."

With a muttered grumble that sounded anything but annoyed, Severus murmured a soft ' _Evanesco'_ , vanishing the sweat and fluids from their bodies.

Harry opened his eyes to see Severus, head propped on one fist, gazing down at a certain part of him that made him raise an eyebrow.

"Ready for round two already?" he teased.

Severus shook his head.

"I'm twenty years older than you, Harry," he reminded and then he paused. "But tomorrow, I would like to... top."

That slight hesitation, together with his solemn expression made Harry smile.

"I'm looking forward to it," he said and pulled Severus down for a kiss.

\- Story End -

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading! As this is a pre-Snarry, I've decided to leave it 'T' rated. Please leave a review if you enjoyed it. And if you'd like me to write that missing scene, let me know as well :)


End file.
